


I Wish I Could Be His Dad

by Goodnight_Stars



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Accidents, Dreamsharing, Everything Hurts, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, but there's so much hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodnight_Stars/pseuds/Goodnight_Stars
Summary: Christopher Pike is recovering from an injury and mourning the future he'll never have. But a dream and an unexpected visitor bring hope.
Relationships: Christopher Pike/Vina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	I Wish I Could Be His Dad

She’d only met him once. For one day. But ever since, there’d been something in her that was connected to something in him.

And some nights, she could feel a tug on the line.

Tonight there was an ache in her heart—not the normal ache she felt when she went to the corner of her room and closed her eyes against a mile of solid rock, imagining that she could feel the wind and see the starlight that was up there, out there, somewhere beyond. It was an ache that felt—she couldn’t really explain it—but it felt particularly like _him._ If an ache could have a smell, this one would’ve smelled of black coffee and old leather and freshly washed hair and the faintest bit of some kind of cologne, something manly—bergamot with a little mahogany, she thought—

Silly, she said to herself. Pain can’t smell like cologne.

But maybe _his_ pain did.

Why was it hurting so, just around her heart?

She wanted to ask the Keeper, but there was no use in that. The Keeper knew everything already, as soon as it entered her mind. He could be in the next room, laughing at her thoughts about Chris smelling like old leather and bergamot. He could see Chris now, if he wanted, wherever he was. He could get into his mind without Chris knowing, spy on him, send him dreams, change what he was seeing. The strongest illusions could only be made here, on Talos, but once they had been in someone’s mind the way they’d been in Chris’s (oh, they’d been deep inside him, thousands of them at once…dragged out ugly memories and suppressed dreams, things that horrified him… _had that been her fault?_ because he was her dream man, and they’d taken him to make her happy? she didn’t know the answer, she didn’t want to know)…oh, once they’d been in someone’s mind like they’d been in Chris’s, he could never quite be free of them. He could never be quite sure they weren’t reaching invisibly across space and tampering with him….

That was a horrible thing to think about, a horrible thing for anyone, but worst of all for a Starfleet captain. That his judgment could be impaired without his knowledge—that was a terrifying thought. The only reason he hadn’t resigned, probably, was because nobody knew what the extent of the Talosians’ powers was, and none of them dared speak aloud the possibility that they might be able to do _that._ And because nobody wanted to lose Chris. When he came to them with concerns about his mental health, they rushed him through, got somebody somewhere to certify him completely sound as quickly as possible, and made sure Boyce was well supplied with whatever he needed to manage the situation.

She wished she could be close to him…hear his voice, rub away his headaches, feel his heart beating to assure her he was still alive and well.

 _Please,_ she said in her mind. _Let me see him…just for a minute. Not the illusion, the real man…I want to know that he’s alright._

…………

Pike walked into his quarters and slumped into the only chair with a grunt of pain. He’d taken a double shift on the bridge and he wanted to sleep, but to sleep, he’d have to get up and change, and he was too tired to do that, so here he was.

He’d been injured a few days ago on a landing party (if you’re ever being saved from a Kzinti cat-warrior by your trusty Vulcan science officer, make sure the Vulcan doesn’t land on top), and Phil Boyce had given him a stern dressing down to go with his fractured shoulder. Half an hour with the regenerator had knitted the bone again, but Boyce had told him gruffly that it would be tender for a few days and to come back if he needed painkillers.

Tender had been an understatement, but he hadn’t gone back.

He couldn’t say why…he couldn’t explain it to himself, let alone anyone else. He didn’t _like_ being hurt, but he liked even less to go to Phil and admit that it hurt and that he wanted something to kill the pain. He could hear Cornwell and Mendez and see the looks on their faces in his imagination. _Good grief, Christopher! Stop being a hero._

But that wasn’t it, really. He wasn’t trying to be a hero…wasn’t impressed with himself for being one…didn’t think it particularly heroic to sit here in the chair, unable to get up and undress for bed because he was tired and his shoulder was killing him.

He didn’t really want to admit that he was scared to fall asleep. He’d always been a deep sleeper, usually able to zonk out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and five hours would hold him in good stead for a whole day. But for the last ten months, he’d been dreaming of Boreth and that radiation accident and the horrible aftermath, fearing what he’d seen, fearing to keep living…but also fearing not being there to save those kids when they’d need him.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes…he felt like a little boy again, scared of the dark. Somewhere between _Our Father_ and _forgive us our trespasses,_ he fell asleep.

…………

She blinked, and she was in the belly of a starship, and he was lying asleep in a chair with his uniform jacket half undone and his hair rumpled. Oh, she loved him.

“Chris? Christopher Pike?” She hurried to him, her bare feet hardly making a sound. His eyes opened, and they were blue as a Nevada sky.

“Vina?”

He said her name as if he didn’t quite believe in her.

“Yes, it’s me! It really is….” Oh, her eyes were filling up and there were tears in her throat now, too…. “I’m glad to see you,” she got out at last.

Then she saw the little boy sleeping on Chris’s bed.

She couldn’t help the little gasp that came out of her mouth…she tiptoed over and touched the child’s hair, smoothing it gently back from his forehead. His hair was golden, his face perfect, two fingers in his mouth as he slumbered with his little chest rising and falling. “Oh, Chris….”

She turned back to him. “Is he yours?”

Chris got up from the chair, wincing a little. He moved stiffly, as though something was hurting him. “He’s not real,” he said quietly. “I dream about him sometimes.”

“Your son?” she persisted.

He nodded in response. “And yours.”

Vina went to Chris and slipped an arm around his waist. “What’s his name?”

“Joshua.”

“After your father?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

“Phillip.”

“After Phil.”

“Yes.”

“I want to give him a kiss.”

“If you wake him up, the dream ends. I’ve tried that before.”

“I’ll have to make do with kissing you, then?” She spoke softly and with just enough humor that he could refuse easily if he really wanted to.

He laughed, just a small laugh, just the dimples starting in his cheeks and a flash of white teeth. But he didn’t kiss her. He wanted to, she was sure of it…she could feel it in him.

But he didn’t. He sighed instead and looked tired and sad.

“How many times have you dreamed about him?” she asked, trying to take his mind somewhere else.

“Just twice.”

“And you tried to wake him up?”

“Yes, but I can’t.”

“What would you tell him, if you could?” She leaned her ear against his chest and listened to his heart, thumping warm and alive and well. She could feel the pain and the tension and the burden seeping out of him, slowly but surely.

“I’d tell him…that I wish I could be his dad. I wish I could build us a ranch and take you home and settle down and build the life I’ve always dreamed of building. I’d tell him I wish I could do that instead of—” His voice faltered for a moment, and Vina saw grief pass through his eyes.

Pike cleared his throat. “I’ve got duties. I took an oath to Starfleet. I’ve got…friends here, and work to be done, and kids who need me.”

Vina looked at the little angel curled up on Chris’s pillow and her heart gave a twinge of awful, aching loneliness. “That kid needs you too.”

He shook his head, swallowing back the sorrow. “No. I wish I could, Vina, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to…everyone else…if I gave up Starfleet to be with you.”

“I don’t mind waiting. Maybe things will change?”

That look of terrible grief went through his eyes again and he shook his head. _Things will change,_ he thought…she could hear his thoughts, thanks to the Talosians… _but not that way. Not the way you want them to._

Aloud he said, “Maybe they will.” And he put his arms around her and held her tight.

That hug was like a whole universe. She and Chris didn’t have a marriage and a home and children and a lifetime of laughing and crying and struggling and triumphing together…just the one hug. And it would have to be enough as they headed into an unknown future, wishing but having no promise that things would ever work out, no promise that either of them would get a happy ending.

The Talosians were calling her back. “I have to go,” she whispered. “I’ll see you again.”

Chris shook his head. “We don’t know that, Vina. I don’t want to give you false hope.”

She looked at the bed where the little boy slept. “He didn’t just come out of nowhere, Chris. You didn’t make him up out of nothing. Don’t you see?”

 _He’s got to be from the future,_ she wanted to say, but she didn’t have to. He knew what she was thinking.

“I have to believe that,” she said, her throat tightening again. “And you have to believe it, too.” She left a kiss on his uniformed shoulder. “Goodbye, Chris.”

…………

Chris opened his eyes. He was still slumped in the chair, his uniform crumpled and half undone, his boots on his feet. He glanced over at the bed and saw that it was empty, the sheet pulled tight over the mattress, exactly as he’d left it before his double shift.

He got slowly to his feet, figuring he might as well sleep in the bed. He reached his injured arm across to turn down the sheet, and realized—the pain was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> slightly inspired by this from Hell on Wheels that makes me cry https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtzkgOJYJCg  
> i just want to give everybody happy endings, lol....  
> if you liked the story, please let me know!! love to you all


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